Some days are like people, refusing to be defined. Today was such a day of brain-deadening frustrations and annoyances, distinct movements forward and wins, if you forgive the parlance of the day job. I call these kind of days bipolar days because that’s what they feel like: riding the crest of some sort of unbalanced toddler-god’s whims.
It started curiously with Monkey announcing “Mimi’s sad” (the first time she’s expressed her own feelings) when she woke up because she couldn’t find Giraffes Can’t Dance. The day culminated in her screaming all over a 6pm conference call the second I unmuted to reply (and causing a spike in the numbers of the Seattle hearing-impaired community, most likely.) But her finest hour was looking at an alphabet flash card of a Queen and saying “mummy.” When corrected, she decided it was a picture of “mummy queen.”
Wise child. I didn’t argue.
Work is a jealous lover, sapping all of my energy and time. So I had left a little early, intending to have some time to read and play pre-conference call and to get some balance with a child who actually cries now when she sees my work laptop. (“Mummy. NO!!!!!!!” I know just how she feels.)
It didn’t work out as I hoped but we did get to lie on the floor eating breadsticks and houmous reading The Snail and the Whale, whilst she mimicked how I was positioned, chin on hand. She let me read the story end-to-end for the first time, which was thoroughly surprising, then demanded “read again”
It was a lovely fifteen minutes looking at the pictures and a wonderful story about how a tiny insignificant person (or mollusc) can impact those around them, with courage and by following their own heart.
On our second reading, we got four pages in before she leaped to her feet and asked hopefully: “jraffe?”, rushing off to grab a very second-hand Giraffes Can’t Dance…
So, we’re allowing the sugar rush of Gerald, but encouraging a balanced book-diet.